Walking Sleep
by Meatball42
Summary: A job goes wrong, and Eliot has to rely on his team to get him out of danger when he can't help himself.


**AN: Another of my really long Leverage songfics, inspired by Soungarden's Black Hole Sun. The title is completely stolen from that song, which I do not own. Wow, that's something the song has in common with Leverage! I tried to connect something to each of the major lyrics and if you read them you might get some insight into where I'm coming from, even if I interpreted them into near unrecognizable-ness. I'm not going to post the lyrics in the story, because I always get bored and skip them, and I wouldn't want to make anyone else do that.**

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Eliot reached up to his neck when he felt the pinch. He brought his hand in front of his face, recognizing slowly the dart that he'd pulled out of his flesh. It was a few seconds before whatever was in the dart took effect, and Eliot managed to slur a warning to his team before he collapsed. "Ge' o'a here, now."

That was when the world tilted, almost comically, and began to blur. Eliot was mildly surprised that he could still see, and it took several seconds for the thought to trickle through his mind: the sedative was meant to immobilize him, not knock him out. Eliot casually wondered about the reasons behind that, but the strange echoes in his ear, sounding like various people yelling his name underwater, distracted him from thinking too hard.

Eliot could see, sort of. The light that had been easy to see moments (minutes? hours?) ago was now very bright and very hot, even though it shimmered as though it were coming through waves of rain. Eliot felt as though it would burn him as he lay on the ground, shivering. Out of the bright light a pale-skinned man walked man toward Eliot. The light gave him a washed out-look, but the man's eyes were a vivid green. Eliot laughed mildly as he recalled Hardison ranting that this man, who had been selling faulty cars to co-eds, was 'one greedy snake of a thief, gives the rest of us a bad name!' The memory reminded Eliot why he was there, and he struggled to control his limbs, to stand up and face the murderer.

But he couldn't move, he felt so tired all of a sudden. Even keeping his eyes open felt like the toughest thing he'd ever tried, and his fingers were suddenly tingling with cold. He felt colder than ever when the man laughed. It was the one sound that made it through the fabric-like mist that surrounded Eliot. Eliot stuttered out "Wha's goin' on?" before a warm breeze made him loose his train of though. He stopped trying to comprehend what was happening around him and simply watched as the strange man (whose eyes were now glowing) pulled something out of his coat that shimmered with rage. Even in his groggy state, Eliot felt a sharp stab of recognition and dislike at the sight of the gun, and he giggled when it went off because it didn't hurt. Then he groaned at himself for giggling; Parker would never let him live it down.

_Parker!_ Eliot's eyes snapped open, although he couldn't recall closing them. Where was the team? Eliot gasped as his brain finally translated the shouts that were still pouring like liquid, unnoticed, into his ear: "We're coming!"

Eliot groaned into the dusty floor of the room; of course they were coming for him, even though he'd told them to leave. If they were coming to save him, they'd get hurt. This thought forced his eyes open again (how did they keep ending up closed?) and he tried to move, but before he could there was a huge noise.

The guilty sound echoed through the room and Eliot winced, seeing the shining blood spray across the pale man's face. _Gotta be Nate._ Eliot knew. Hardison couldn't shoot to save his life, never mind that this time, it would've been to save Eliot's life. Sophie had a strange aversion to guns that; the only explanation she'd ever given was that she couldn't, 'not since Paris'. Eliot almost giggled again when he remembered Nate's face after the grifter had said that. Parker wouldn't have stopped at one shot, which left Nate. Eliot did let out a laugh as the world twisted in front of him; a few minutes ago he couldn't remember his own name, but now all these thoughts were suddenly spinning inside his head. The realization made him dizzy, and the hitter groaned when he felt someone moving his body.

"Eliot, can you hear me?" Eliot couldn't respond to the voice, he couldn't think. Once again, he felt so tired he couldn't move, but his eyes flew open when he felt someone trying to pull off his jacket. Eliot flailed listlessly for a moment, before a new voice slipped through the fog.

"Eliot, you have to let Nate look at the wound," she said. Eliot opened his eyes to see the angel whose smooth voice was echoing in his mind like music in an opera hall. For a moment his eyes wouldn't focus, but he heard the voice again and suddenly he could see. "Sophie?" He said curiously, lips barely moving.

"You'll be alright," she smiled down at him. Eliot could see the unshed tears in her eyes, and heard with startling clarity a distinct wobble in her voice, but her British accent was very comforting. Eliot felt a soft touch on his abdomen; Nate was pressing Eliot's jacket over a huge red stain in the hitter's side and talking into the air. Eliot heard the team leader was saying and Hardison's responses over his com and smiled slightly. The hacker was preparing medical supplies back at the office, knowing that Eliot would refuse a hospital at all costs. Under any other circumstances Eliot would've been trying to figure out how to treat a gunshot wound while under sedation, but now he was floating contently, trusting that his guardians would make him safe.

Eliot drifted until light taps on his face woke him up. Sophie was walking alongside him (since when was he upright?) and Nate had one arm under Eliot's and around his back to support the young man, and the other hand pressing fabric to the gunshot wound. They were stumbling along the street, outside a building Eliot remembered. Had he really only walked into that abandoned house a few minutes ago? The air was shimmering with the rain Eliot had felt on his skin, and along with the continued dizziness and sudden nausea he was feeling, it was difficult to figure out where they were headed. The thought floated around his mind that he should _know_ where he was going, but he felt like he was sleep-walking, and just continued to go wherever Nate and Sophie were taking him.

It seemed to be weeks later, but they rounded a corner and Eliot's feet felt like lead. He stumbled, but Nate and Sophie caught him and half carried, half dragged him toward the black panel van that was suddenly right in front of them. Eliot could hear two voices he recognized in his ear, both urging to "Come on, faster!" The words echoed in his mind distractingly until they were all he could hear, and suddenly he was on his back and the doors of the van were sliding shut.

There was a prick of pain in his arm. Eliot didn't know what the sensation meant, but his body did. His arm jerked away from the pressure and he tried to sit up, only to be pushed flat again. Nate's face, melted like a watch (a corner of his mind complained at how much Sophie's art knowledge was rubbing off on him) came into view, looking serious. "I need to give you an IV!" Nate explained. The words seemed to bounce through a tunnel before they reached the hitter's ears, but Eliot settled down and allowed the pinprick when it came again, ignoring consciousness for a few blissful moments.

The feeling of fabric on his side, which he'd gotten used to, was suddenly not there. Eliot lifted his head and saw Nate working on the bullet wound while Sophie handed him utensils from a first aid kit. Nate noticed Eliot's concerned expression and smiled comfortingly. "It's just a graze," he said, and Sophie arranged something under Eliot's head, sighing in relief. "It'll be fine. Rest, Eliot."

Eliot let his head fall back to the soft fabric Sophie had placed there. Nate's words and the painkillers in the IV were working wonders, and all the fear and tension seemed to flow out of the hitter's mind. A hazy, subtle mist ate away at the edges of Eliot's vision until the figures of his teammates disappeared, and he fell asleep.

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**I'm very glad to say I've never been forcibly sedated before, but I have had laughing gas, so I'm just taking that and multiplying it. I hope the symptoms in this story make sense.**

**Reviews are food for a hungry muse! Please review!**


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